Wrestlemania - The Album

Various Artists

RCA, 1993

REVIEW BY: Jeff Clutterbuck


Damn, I thought I had it.

When my roommate lent me Wrestlemania and told me just what it entailed, Mr. Clutterbuck was sure he had found his first “F” review. Unfortunately, as much as it pains to me say the following, Wrestlemania had just enough “decent” moments to avoid being labeled a complete and total failure.

First, I think it is worth mentioning that the producer of this outstanding disc is none other than Simon Cowell. Yes, you heard right, the very same Simon Cowell who essentially has the music industry by the throat these days thanks to the monstrosity that is American Idol. Ironically, despite my harsh feelings towards Cowell, I have to admit that he is the sole reason this disc didn’t get the “F.”my_heart_sings_the_harmony_web_ad_alt_250

Yes, Wrestlemania reeks of the early 1990s; it doesn’t sound like there was a real instrument used on the entire disc. And yes, the main “performers” on this disc are actual wrestlers from the WWF; you may remember such “athletes” as Macho Man Randy Savage and Brett the Hitman Hart? But somehow, against all the odds, Cowell makes this disc one of the most unintentionally hilarious discs ever. I hope on all that is holy that he did not take this project seriously in any way, because if he did, that could quite possibly shatter my notions of how the universe works.

Now, I don’t mean to imply that I enjoyed Wrestlemania. It’s horrendous in so many ways. The wrestlers don’t actually sing, thank God, but instead perform along the lines of spoken word. So the Hitman really doesn’t send his vocals soaring on “Never A Right Time To Say Goodbye,” but by gosh if he doesn’t sound intense! Ladies, if a man ever “sings” to you in this way, start running immediately.

Just to ensure that he covers all his bases, Cowell pulls out one of the most stereotyped songs I’ve had the pleasure of listening to in “Tatanka Native American.” Let’s just say that Cowell’s production style on this track in attempting to craft an Indian sound is as subtle as a William Hung performance on… well… American Idol.

To say anymore about this disc could seriously imperil my mental health; it was bad enough to have to listen to this a few times in order to present to you, the reader, a comprehensive and hard-hitting piece of journalism. And in the end, I didn’t even get an “F” out of it. I guess the search continues…

Rating: D-

User Rating: Not Yet Rated



© 2007 Jeff Clutterbuck and The Daily Vault. All rights reserved. Review or any portion may not be reproduced without written permission. Cover art is the intellectual property of RCA, and is used for informational purposes only.